Alice

Her left alone, Mr. Jones says to Cotton, “What do you figure, another day?”

“Might be a stretch after. No telling these days.”

“Yeah. Jimmy better be right about this.”

“And if he’s not?”

“Might be best to put him down seeing how he is.”

“Alright then. Whenever you give the word.”

“Until then, let’s wait and see how this pans out.”

He looks at her then, Cotton, too.

“Hope you like rabbit,” is all Mr. Jones needs to say that triggers Cotton to tear off a leg before handing it over to her.

The hint of pine mixing with the drifting smoke sets the ambiance as she pulls free a strand of meat. She hated herself the first time she killed one, her doing all she can to convince herself to do it or end up starving. She grew fast in that split second, hardened in knowing she had to.

The same bland taste barely fills the hole in her gut and after tossing the bone to the fire, Cotton hands over another hindquarter. “Might as well have this too.”

At this very moment, being looked after eases the hardship.

Quiet in her way of stripping away the meat with her teeth, she hears Cotton say, “You and me both know that a handful of pennies goes a long way these days. This might have a lot to do with us having that feeling of being followed.”

Mr. Jones shakes his head, “It’s more than that.”